


Declarations

by JustSomeMusings



Series: A Thousand Words or One [9]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M, Part 9 of A Thousand Words series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSomeMusings/pseuds/JustSomeMusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a good morning. It can even be called perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Declarations

When Harvey wakes up, it’s to light streaming in through in the window, an extremely comfy, warm bed, a sense of peace, and no Mike. No Mike. Well. That’s a problem. It has been exactly 34 seconds since Harvey woke up and his mind is now consumed with panic. And about fifty thousand questions, such as, where is Mike, did he leave last night, did he think this was a mistake, how’s Harvey going to convince him it’s not, did mike not mean what he said last night? It’s with these dismal thoughts circulating that Harvey drags himself into a sitting position on his bed and gets himself to the edge, so he can put his feet on the shockingly cold floor (distantly he thinks that he should have installed heated floors in this place). Now that the freezing cold has woke him up even further the panic begins to set it in, in a more clear form instead of the hazy introduction he had to it in bed. 

Grumbling about stupid associates that confuse the shit out of him Harvey starts to stand up and crack his back. Then he’s shuffling his way to the kitchen because there is no way he is going to chase after his errant associate without coffee first. He needs that to be fully functional. In his shuffle he slips on something and almost dies on his annoyingly icy floor (seriously heated floor. Mental note is taken). He bends down to pick it and finds that it’s a picture. Of him. Sleeping. In bed. With Mike. And where in the hell had Mike found his Polaroid camera because he’s been missing that for months, which is a less important thought than the one that he can smell coffee. Mike’s still here. Mike’s still here and he took a picture of Harvey sprawled out over the bed, half buried under blanket, with his mouth parted in sleep, and no worry lines on his face. He’s hiding this picture. 

He continues on his way after tossing the picture onto the book shelf next to the door (no one will ever find it because that shelf is crammed with books and vinyls and all sorts of other things). He follows the glorious smell of caffeine because God does that smell good and he also might still be partially asleep. The kitchens in front of him and he’s silently thanking God because that walk seems ten times longer in the morning then it does at any other time of the day. Normally Harvey just continues on his way to the coffee pot and gulps down as much of the life sustaining liquid as he can, but this morning he stops in his tracks. He just stops, halts, can’t move, won’t move, and just stares. Mike is standing in front of the coffee pot. He’s standing there is Harvey’s dress shirt from last night and nothing else, which is half falling off his shoulder exposing his thoroughly marked collarbone, the sleeves are too long, so he’s used the extra length to protect his hands from the hot cup of coffee in his hands, over the cup of coffee he’s giving Harvey an amused smile and bedroom eyes, and his legs. His legs. They just keep going. And going. And going. 

Harvey practically tackles Mike to get the cup out of his hand, Mike on the counter, and himself on Mike. He really loves kissing Mike. Mike makes all these little noises and squirms like he can’t enough of Harvey, so he has to tough him everywhere he possibly can. It’s when he gets his hands on Mike’s thighs to run his thumbs over them that Mike completely melts. There’s a muffled moan and then Mike has a hand wound tight in Harvey’s hair and he’s become completely plaint in Harvey’s hands. Harvey’s next stop is Mike’s neck and the marks he made there last night. They’ve faded a little, so he’ll have to fix that. He’s so engrossed in sucking a hickey that Mike will never be able to cover up into his neck that he almost misses the faint click of a camera. Almost. As he plants a last kiss to Mike’s neck he hears the camera go off again. He chuckles making Mike shiver from the vibrations traveling through his body from it. He looks up to see the Polaroid. Ah. So they’ll get to see those in a minute. 

Mike grabs the one that’s in the camera now and starts fanning it. Harvey snorts and buries himself in Mike’s neck again to suck and kiss at random patches making Mike hums appreciatively. He nudges Harvey out of his new home a couple minutes later to show him the picture. They look good together. Both a morning wreck with Harvey placing a kiss on Mike’s neck and Mike smiling down at him with that secret smile. It looks adorable. It looks amazing. It looks perfect. It looks like them. This picture isn’t one he’s going to throw on his bookshelf and hide. He might just go have it framed and give the guy framing it a heart attack when he sees that they are both pretty much naked in it. It’s a gorgeous picture of them and it’s worth Harvey putting himself out there. It was worth the potential heartbreak. The potential letdown. It was worth maybe losing Mike because he hadn’t lost him, he’s gotten him. He’s gotten Mike. He’s gotten love. 

Harvey thinks that he was right. This picture is only worth one word: love. 

“Mike? I love you,” he whispers putting his forehead on Mike’s. 

“I love you too Harvey,” Mike whispers back before kissing Harvey.


End file.
